


i think i'm tired of getting over it

by elsaclack



Series: close to home [2]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/F, Originally Posted on Tumblr, because the latest episode pissed me off, in terms of their friendship, so i'm making my own friendship bye, this is a dianetti fic, this is also a gina/amy friendship fic, with peraltiago in the background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 05:51:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10938312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elsaclack/pseuds/elsaclack
Summary: She’s not sure about the how or the when or the why, but on one warm afternoon in May, Gina is faced with the realization that one Rosa Diaz has become an undeniable cornerstone in her life. Gina almost hates herself for allowing this to happen, for allowing this one person to become so intimately entangled in the life she’s built for herself that the moment that person disappears from it, everything comes crashing down again. Her eyes are open and she can still see colors and feel textures and the world is still real and spinning, except her mind has dropped off back into that void and there is nothing there to pull her out, there is no one, nothing, gone gone gone -“Gina?” Gina blinks, and Amy Santiago’s face comes fading into view.[a s4 finale prediction]





	i think i'm tired of getting over it

**Author's Note:**

> ALRIGHT SO HERE’S THE DEAL I’M REALLY IN LOVE WITH ROSA AND GINA
> 
> I HAVE NO IDEA HOW THIS FINALE IS GONNA GO DOWN BUT BOI
> 
> BOI
> 
> I’M REALLY 100% READY FOR THE PAIN
> 
> but in all seriousness this is my first time writing for dianetti and i’m high-key nervous for some reason so sos please be gentle i feel like i’m stepping into a pitch-black void and i have no idea what’s gonna happen next rip

She can still feel the cold, empty darkness sometimes.

She’s never told anyone about it before - no one’s ever asked - but in the two minutes she spent being legally dead, Gina was not wrapped in warm light or plunged into a lake of fire. There were no archangels to greet her or long-passed family members to welcome her, there was just - nothing. Nothing _ness_. There was an endless stretch of darkness in which she existed without physical form, there was a kind of cold that would have chilled her bones had she had any bones to be chilled, and there was silence so thick and overwhelming she could practically hear the echoes of the very universe, from the dawn of time until now.

Two minutes, she’d spent in the void. In the moment, in her own head - or spirit, or soul, _whatever_ she was - it was longer than any lifetime.

It’s been easier, lately, to fight it all off. Easy to slip back into her habits from before, into teasing Amy and Charles and harassing Jake and watching Rosa brood at her desk. It’s easy to ignore the chills still racing up her back when Holt has had her so busy with the whole precinct-shutting-down business.

But from time to time she feels it, she’s encompassed by it, and suddenly she finds herself breathing deeply and rhythmically, listening to Amy’s gentle coaching over a crackling cell phone connection at two in the morning.

Under threat of death should anyone else find out, of course.

(She can tell by the guardedly sympathetic looks Jake shoots her way every morning after that Amy hasn’t kept her word, but whatever. She still remembers finding Jake fetal in his closet the morning after Roger’s hatchback incident - they’re even, now.)

It gets easier to survive around it, to live her life normally and to pretend like she doesn’t know what complete and utter nothingness feels like when it wraps around a soul.

Until suddenly, it isn’t easy anymore.

She’s not sure about the how or the when or the why, but on one warm afternoon in May, Gina is faced with the realization that one Rosa Diaz has become an undeniable cornerstone in her life. Gina almost hates herself for allowing this to happen, for allowing this one person to become so intimately entangled in the life she’s built for herself that the moment that person disappears from it, everything comes crashing down again. Her eyes are open and she can still see colors and feel textures and the world is still real and spinning, except her mind has dropped off back into that void and there is _nothing_ there to pull her out, there is _no one, nothing, gone gone gone_ -

“Gina?” Gina blinks, and Amy Santiago’s face comes fading into view. It’s as splotchy and tear-stained as Gina suspects her own is; and like another low blow to the gut, Gina belatedly realizes that Rosa isn’t the only one who has been forcibly removed from the squad’s delicately tangled web.

She has no memory of coming here, to their apartment, but it seems silly and insignificant now that she’s actually here. “We can get them out, right?” She asks, not bothering to hide the way her voice quivers. Amy’s brows draw further together (a feat Gina did not realize was possible) and her breath visibly catches in her throat. “We can - we can prove they were innocent, prove they were set up - right?”

“I-I don’t -” Amy shakes her head slightly, and her eyes are so big and wide and uncertain, reflecting all the _pain_ and _misery_ and _fear_ and _everything, every single horrible thing_ that Gina herself is drowning in, and it’s like looking down the barrel of a shotgun knowing it’s the last thing she’ll ever see. “Gina, we’re _cops_. Unless we get assigned to the case…there isn’t a lot we can do. At least not _legally_.”

It’s so absurd, how easy it is to ask this newly-minted sergeant to do that - _that_ being whatever it takes to prove Rosa and Jake’s collective innocence - regardless of the legality of the situation. It’s so absurd, how much Gina wants to do just that. To grab Amy by her shoulders and to shake her, to throw her against the wall to her left and demand it, to threaten all manner of bodily harm (she knows where Rosa keeps weapons stashed around the precinct, it wouldn’t take long at all) to obtain it.

It’s so absurd, how it takes so little effort to bite her tongue.

“Come in,” Amy tells her, and she does. She shuffles through the doorway into the entryway, eyes already glued to the couch in the living room even as Amy closes and locks the front door behind them both. Gina hasn’t been here since Thanksgiving months earlier and it’s intense; Jake’s presence is spread everywhere in thick brushstrokes, dripping from nearly every surface in a way that suggests complete and total immersion. And her empty chest aches for them both for a moment, at the absence tinged at the edges with an unsettlingly familiar sense of deja-vu. This is…business as usual in the Santiago-Peralta household.

Fate is cruel, and Gina has never personally known _anyone_ who has suffered more at Fate’s hands than Jacob Peralta.

“I just made coffee, do you -” Gina cuts her off with a nod and then moves toward the couch, ignoring the broadly-grinning faces in frames littered strategically throughout the living room in favor of wondering how many ancient chip crumbs she’ll inhale if she just buries her face in the couch cushions. She’s just starting the rapid descent downward - face primed for burying - when one photo in particular catches her gaze.

The frame itself is pretty understated - a plain, dark wood, one that matches the rest of Amy’s older furniture in both aged charm and general color - but the photo inside is anything but. It’s the five of them - Gina, Amy, Jake, Rosa, and Charles - drunkenly crowded into one of Shaw’s circular booths. The lighting isn’t the best and Charles’ eyes are red from the flash, but Gina feels herself smiling slowly as she lifts the photo up from the side table where it lives.

Jake and Amy are near the center - which seems to be the theme in most of these photos - but they certainly aren’t the focal point. Jake’s got an arm slung around Amy’s neck, dragging her in close to plant a kiss against her temple. Gina’s eyes linger only a moment on the way his nose is smashed against the top of her head before Amy’s face draws her attention down. Her face is scrunched and red, clearly caught mid-laugh, and even though it appears she’s only moments away from leaning away to smack Jake’s chest the way she always does when he gets a little too comfortable with the PDA, her left arm is extended backwards across Rosa’s front. Rosa, in turn, appears completely unaffected by the scene frozen just inches to her right. Her dark eyes are half-lidded and there’s a healthy blush on her face and a half-drunk bottle of whiskey on the table in front of her and Gina’s whole chest feels warm and achey with pained affection. On Jake’s other side, Charles is looking directly at the camera, also caught mid-laugh (probably mid-giggle, actually, considering the PDA unfolding before him).

Gina’s on Charles’ other side, face a clear mixture of amusement and disgust alike. She’s mid-eye-roll, left hand on Charles’ shoulder and arm extended to force as much space between them as possible. The longer Gina stares, the more she remembers; the warm atmosphere, the warmer company, the loud long laughs that made her belly ache and the lingering stares from across the table that sent heat trickling down her spine.

“I had tea, too,” Amy’s quiet voice startles Gina back to reality. Gina lets the frame fall forward quickly, gaze darting up to Amy’s face a little too fast; there’s a quiet, knowing look shimmering in the back of Amy’s gaze as she passes Gina a steaming mug that Gina hates. “It really helps. With the - the anxiety.”

Right. Of course Amy’s thinking about anxiety. Because Amy _has_ anxiety. And because _Gina_ has it now, too.

They both sip at their respective drinks in silence. Gina’s acutely aware of the weight of the frame in her lap, just as she’s acutely aware of the way Amy’s hands keep twitching around her mug the way they always twitch when she wants to ask something but is too anxious to do so. Gina closes her eyes, hoping the anxiety is stemming from how to ask the question rather than the _of course not, are you insane_ that lays beyond it.

“Gina - are you alright?”

Gina answers in the form of a scorching, withering glare.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s a stupid question, but - I don’t know how else to _ask_ about it.” Amy practically snaps the last part, and for a second Gina feels guilty. “I don’t know _how_ to ask, okay? Because I’m going through the same thing right now and - and I know how much I wanna talk about it, but also how much I _never_ want to talk to _anyone_ about it, _ever_. And I just, I thought - maybe, um…”

She trails, and Gina stares down at her mug blindly.

“I know I’m not - _her_ ,” Amy starts again more quietly, and Gina’s grip tightens around her mug. “But I _am_ your friend and I _do_ care about you - about your, uh, well-being - and I know how much it sucks to - to lose someone when - the feelings are unresolved -”

“Amy,” Gina interrupts, and her voice is sharper and more jagged than she’s ever heard before in her life. “There’s nothing unresolved, or whatever. She’s - she’s with someone else, and…that’s it. She’s with someone and even though that someone is a sack of _shit_ and is hardly ever _around_ and just - just generally _sucks_ \- I’m not here because of that.” She forces herself to look at Amy head-on, to meet her concerned gaze as evenly as she can. “They’re both innocent. You and I know that. Everyone with half a brain who was in that courtroom knows that. But for whatever reason, they both ended up in prison. I’m here because - because we _have_ to get them out. And you’re the smart one on the squad, so.”

Gina shifts slightly, sending the frame in her lap tilting to the side so that it lands face-up on the cushion between them, and Amy looks down at it on instinct. The silence between them blossoms again as Amy slowly reaches out and takes the frame, lifts it closer and studies it with a distantly fond look in her eye. “Okay,” she says after a moment, “I’ll do whatever I can. We should start with getting legal representation.”

She leans forward to place both the coffee mug and the frame on the coffee table, but Gina grips Amy’s sleeve before she can launch herself off the couch. “Wait,” she says, and there must be something vulnerable about her in this moment because Amy softens as she falls back to the couch cushions. “I just, um…” Gina closes her eyes and inhales deeply, deep down in her toes, and when she opens her eyes again Amy is looking at her expectantly. “How’d - how’d you know?”

A small, knowing smile flashes faintly across Amy’s face. “You and Jake have really similar facial expressions,” she shrugs. “You look at her - you look at Rosa the same way Jake looks at me. Plus she’s literally the only person you’ve never made fun of. For you, that’s basically a declaration of love.” She doesn’t have it in her to argue or deflect the way she normally would. So she tucks her chin down and nods, careful and reserved, and Amy shifts a little closer. “I know it’s not the same, but - I really am here for you, Gina. You can talk to me about - about anything. And no one will ever find out.”

 _Because I’m alone now, too_.

“Did I ever tell you about what I saw when I died?” Gina asks after another quiet moment. She glances up and Amy’s shaking her head slowly, eyes wide. “Didn’t think so. I mean I know - I know I said that dumb thing about God when I first came back to work, but - I didn’t actually meet Her.”

She pauses, forces herself to inhale through her suddenly-constricted throat, and Amy’s hand is warm and reassuring where it lands against her forearm.

“The truth is, when I coded, I…I didn’t see anything. I didn’t _feel_ anything. It was just…nothing. Darkness, y’know? Dark and cold and empty. I was completely and totally alone.” She inhales again, and tears are spilling down her face. She doesn’t know when they started falling. “I was alone and I couldn’t do anything - I couldn’t even scream because I didn’t have a _body_ \- and, and no one was there, Amy, I couldn’t see anything or anyone and I was _alone_ -”

Amy yanks her forward and she’s cut off by a shoulder jutting up under her jaw, by arms forcing her closer to the other end of the couch. She’s full-on _sobbing_ into Amy’s hair and Amy’s hands tremble against her back but her voice is steady and soothing in Gina’s ears as she shushes her, quietly reassures her, murmurs an unwavering count that Gina syncs her breathing to after just a moment.

“You’re not alone anymore.” Amy says with the most quiet conviction Gina’s ever heard once the sobs have tapered off. “You have me and Charles and Terry and Captain Holt, and we will not stop fighting until we bring Jake and Rosa back home. Okay? That’s a promise.”

It’s so absurd, how instantaneously the heedy comfort floods Gina’s system.

* * *

It takes close to five months, but Amy keeps her word. It comes In the form of late-night wine-fueled cry sessions, weekend retail therapy, hours upon hours of sitting on the floor in Babylon with a thousand-yard stare that burns holes in the far wall, and at least two-dozen meatball subs hurled off the roof of the precinct, Amy’s apartment building, and Gina’s apartment building, but finally - _finally_ \- Gina finds herself standing in the courtyard of a maximum security prison in a suburb outside of the city between an anxious Amy and an equally-anxious Charles.

She tries very hard not to let her gaze linger on the back of Adrian Pimento’s head, since every time she looks at him she’s nearly engulfed in pure rage - he’d all but disappeared over the last five months, showing up only a week earlier to check in on how things were going and looking like he’d been crawling around the desert in the time that had passed. Because of _course_ he was.

It’s not fair, really, that he gets to be here to reap the benefits from the hard work he had nothing to do with, but it’s fine. The fact that they’re even here at _all_ is a win, regardless of who managed to worm their way in at the last second.

Jake emerges first.

And it’s easy, after that, to get swept up in the sheer joy of the moment. It would have been impossible not to even if she’d been trying, really, considering Jake literally drops to his knees six yards short, positively _weeping_ , too overcome with emotion to even make it all the way to Amy. And then Amy tackles him to the ground and really, honestly, the desperate noises coming from the two of them combined with the way his arms cinch so tightly around her waist is enough to almost make her forget the tiny chunk of void that has been sitting in her chest for all these months now.

Almost.

It’s not quite enough, though, because then they hear a distant buzz and a different door opens and Rosa emerges, squinting in the sunlight as the light breeze tousles her wild mane. And it’s like all the oxygen in the entire universe evaporates all at once, like Gina’s whole life has narrowed down to that one figure in the distance, like she’s been running and running and running for as long as she’s existed and she’s finally caught a glimpse of the finish line. It’s so bittersweet, that moment, because for all the sunlight that has finally broken through the dismal clouds, it’s blotted out not a split-second later by Pimento stepping between them.

Gina drops her chin, choking on a gasp, and distantly she can hear Amy and Jake starting to calm down. It’s suddenly very bright and very crowded in the courtyard and Gina feels hot, too hot, overheated to the point of being dizzy, and _man_ she really overshot it with this wool coat with the low being in the fifties today because she’s almost positive she’s going to overheat and pass out right here in the middle of everything -

“Get _off me_.” Rosa’s voice is a wicked snarl that echoes across the courtyard, and suddenly every molecule in Gina’s body is frozen. She watches as though through a very long tunnel as Rosa violently shoves Pimento’s raised arms away from her, backwards, harshly, until he’s on the ground beneath her and she’s towering over him. “You don’t touch me ever again.”

“Baby -?”

“ _Do not_!” Rosa roars, and from the corner of her eye Gina sees Jake and Amy scrambling to their feet. “You’re the _reason_ we were in there. Consider yourself lucky they confiscated all of my weapons when I first got here, because if they hadn’t I swear to you I would be turning around and going right back in right now.”

A hand closes around Gina’s forearm, and when she glances to her right she’s met by Amy’s pale, pinched face. Beyond her stands Jake, who is watching the scene unfold with rapt interest. Even so, she can see his left hand planted firmly in the dip of Amy’s waist in her peripheral vision, thumb sweeping up and down compulsively.

“Get out of here, Pimento. If I ever see your stupid slimy face around me or any of these people in this courtyard, I will personally see to it that you are maimed beyond recognition in the most painful way possible. Understand?”

Rosa glares down at him fiercely until he nods, until he’s on his feet and racing to his motorcycle parked on the opposite side of the street. She maintains her iciness until the roar of the engine has faded, until they’re surrounded by relative quiet again; her face quickly transforming from utter disdain to cool relief to what can really only be described as pure, unadulterated smoldering.

The last of these only flicks to life the moment Rosa’s gaze lands on Gina.

Rosa starts toward her, strides long and purposeful, and Gina shakes Amy’s hand away absently as she steps forward to meet her. Gina makes it all of three steps before Rosa reaches her and then - and then Gina’s hands are tangled in those insane curls the way she’s always daydreamed about and Rosa’s fingers are gripping at Gina’s waist and shoulder and hips and back so hard it hurts but Gina doesn’t care, doesn’t hardly even feel it, because all of her senses are on fire lit by the searing burn of Rosa’s lips on hers. It’s agony and ecstasy all at once; it’s absolutely, undeniably the one single thing she’s been wanting and needing since - ever.

For all the callous violence she’d been threatening before, Rosa is exceedingly gentle when she pulls away. Her hands stroke slowly and lightly over Gina’s back and Gina cradles her face, keeping their foreheads touching and her eyes closed as the light works through her system. “Been wanting to do that for a while now,” Rosa mutters, and Gina nods, knowing without looking that a soft, secret smile is blossoming across Rosa’s face at the movement.

Amy’s the first person she sees when she untangles herself from Rosa’s embrace, and it really must mean a lot to her because she completely breaks physical contact with Jake to hug her close. The air is full of greetings, their space full of hugs and embraces and slaps on the back and relief, so much relief.

“Let me know when you want to sneak away. Jake and I can distract everyone.” Amy whispers in her ear.

Gina snorts. That old familiar heat is back, in a far larger amount than she’s ever felt before, and based on the lingering look Rosa’s sending her way over Charles’ shoulder at that very moment she guesses she’s not the only one feeling it. Still, she smiles at Amy and grips her shoulders firmly. “Thank you,” she says, hoping it’s enough to convey the density of the emotions swirling through her at that very moment. “For everything. Thank you.”

“I told you before, Gina,” Amy says softly. “You’re not alone anymore. Never again.”

“Thank you. But, uh - and I really hope you don’t take this the wrong way - I’m really gonna need you guys to leave us alone.”

Amy’s grin broadens, and when she steps back, she salutes. “You got it.”

She’s off like a flash, inserting herself between Jake and Terry, flinging her arms around Jake’s neck so dramatically the whole group seems to converge. Rosa’s gaze flickers to Gina and Gina waves her over, gesturing to the car parked on the curb just a few yards to the right. “Let’s, um…let’s get outta here.” Gina murmurs once Rosa’s close enough.

Rosa glances over Gina’s shoulder at the car, and then back to where Jake and Amy are embracing again, before fixing an even smile at Gina. “Please.”

Gina laughs once they’re in the car, doors closed and seatbelts buckled. Rosa’s leaning across the center console and Gina meets her halfway, hands slipping clumsily down the steering wheel as Rosa’s fingers plunge into Gina’s hair. Her heart skips and stutters and drags the tattered, broken pieces of the last five months closer together, where they’re beginning to heal.

“You ready for this, Linetti?” Rosa asks quietly once they’ve settled back into their own spaces.

(It takes a few weeks - a few quiet, gentle encouragements - but eventually, Gina wakes up with a mouth full of dark black curls and a slender arm thrown around her middle and she no longer remembers what that deep, dark void feels like.)

Gina smirks and starts the engine. “Born ready, Diaz. The question is - are you?”

(It takes a few tries - a few collisions, a few sacrifices - but in the end, she absolutely is.)


End file.
